An Unwilling Self Seduction (or, more accurately, that one time I had stitches put in my face and dad couldn’t watch)

As a child, I had quite a few “accidents.” One of the most memorable is when I fell and sliced open my face in a Sunday School classroom. Long story, but it involves a small trampoline and a Sunday School classroom with the lights turned off (sorry, I lived at the local church through my childhood so my stories usually have something to do with a small church building and, for some reason, me ending up bleeding). I had to have stitches in my face. Today, I have a scar. It is below my left eye if you want to check it out. And, don’t tell anyone, but I am sort of proud that I have a cool scar.

It was like a scene out of “E.R.”, except it was 1987 (maybe...it was definitely the eighties). I was rushed into the bright green room and laid on a table; doctors and nurses were sewing up my face and my mom was holding my hand. My dad was staying out of the room because he couldn’t watch the open face surgery repair. I would say they were scared for my life because I needed stitches. Definitely life threatening when you need stitches (that is how I felt, anyway).

Have you ever noticed that when you were a kid life was more simple? I think it is because when you are a kid, life is all about you. As a kid, you are so self absorbed. You haven’t matured to the point where you know the value of caring for others, truly loving others, or (hold your breath) sacrificing for someone because you love them. My family modeled these things for me beautifully. So far, I have learned how to go from being really self absorbed to being less self absorbed.

Back to the emergency room drama. The doctor put stitches in my face, and I don’t remember if it hurt or not. After a couple of weeks, I would pull at them when no one was looking. Apparently, the fingernail of an eight year old is perfect for pulling out a stitch prematurely. But mom would catch me or dad would tell me to stop it. After all, if my gorgeous mug was going to survive this latest attack then I would need the stitches to stay in for the whole time.

My grandparents were impressed with the scar. I dont remember his exact words but I am sure my grandpa showed me his Korean War scar and I would show him my battle wound. At school, I would frequent the restroom to check my face scar. The second grade girls probably thought I was a hunk; after all, I had a scar.

In the Bible, the writer of John (book in the New Testament) used a definition of love that intimidates me. Basically,m he compares the love of Jesus to an unconditional, risky, wide-open love. A love so authentic and selfless that it doesn’t really make much logical sense in our world. I think the closest I have come to this type of love was when I was a kid, laying on a table, getting my face stitched up. I’ll let you fill in the blanks with your own story, but for me, I learn about love when I think of how close a family can be.

Now, my family (probably like your family) is weird. We are in no way a perfect model of selfless and unconditional love. After all, for that to happen I would have those traits myself, and believe me, I have a long way to go. But I have caught a glimpse from time to time.

When have you seen this type love expressed in family? Isn’t that what God desires for our faith community? As this article closes, let me leave you with some words Paul (a writer in the Bible) left for one of his faith communities. Be challenged by this in your family:

“Let's not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good (loving each other). Right now, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith” (taken from Galatians 6).